


Not Quite My Thing

by Lothiriel84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea Is Not Sober, Asexual Character, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ms Somers," Mycroft Holmes acknowledged her, his voice betraying the faintest trace of surprise. "I believe I sent you home hours ago."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite My Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solrosan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/gifts).



Mr Holmes did have expensive tastes, she smirked as she refilled the glass – trying not to spill twenty-five-year-old single malt whisky onto the carpet. She made a mental note to replenish the contents of the liquor cabinet tomorrow; her boss definitely didn’t need to know about her little escapade, and yet she should have seen it coming when the key turned into the lock and a much familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

“Ms Somers,” Mycroft Holmes acknowledged her, his voice betraying the faintest trace of surprise. “I believe I sent you home hours ago.”

“You did,” she nodded in a supreme effort to ignore the fact that she was crouched on the floor at his feet. “And you said you were going home as well.”

He shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I found myself unable to sleep.”

“Mm, me too,” she slurred, then bit at her lower lip and lowered the half-empty glass. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I am not sober at this moment in time. I do apologise.”

“What for? I hope you’re aware you don’t have to answer to me about what you choose to do in your spare time.”

Andrea stifled a slightly hysterical giggle. “Even if I choose to do it in your office?”

“Even so. I trust your good judgement, whether under the influence or not.”

That was when she decided to save what little was left of her dignity and struggled to get to her feet, only to fail miserably. The room around her was spinning uncontrollably; it took her a few moments to realise that he’d gathered her in his arms and eased her onto the plush cushions of the sofa.

“You and your brother are nothing like the rest,” she murmured somewhat incoherently. “Always assuming that a woman has to – want to, because that’s what women do.”

Mr Holmes regarded her for a long moment. “Is that why you’re hiding in my office?”

“It’s nice up here,” she nodded. “Safe. I’m tired of men – and women – trying to hit on me. Tired of having to explain…”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m asexual, not stupid.”

“I never thought you were,” he said with quiet conviction; next thing she knew he was taking off his suit jacket and draping it around her shoulders. “Have a good night, Ms Somers.”

And when she did fall asleep, it was with a smile on her face.


End file.
